With Friends Like These, Who Needs Anime?
by ordinaryguy2
Summary: A "Brave & Bold" style crossover featuring DC heroes and Japanese cartoon characters. By Carycomic
1. Chapter 1

**With Friends Like These, Who Needs Anime?**

by Carycomic

 _A "Brave & Bold" style crossover featuring Japanese cartoon characters.  
_

 **Usual disclaimer:** _if you recognize the characters and/or concepts, I don't own/profit from them._

 **Chapter 1.**

 **NORTH SHORE MEDICAL CENTER,**

 **SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS**

 **(JULY 4, 1940)**

Dr. Kent Nelson sat down in the hospital cafeteria, during a lull between rounds. As he had done last year, and the year before that, he had agreed to change shifts with one of the married doctors so that the latter could take his wife and children to watch the fireworks. Nelson, himself, was more concerned with the fireworks going on overseas! According to the newspaper he had bought in the lobby, the Nazis were fortifying their position in occupied France while simultaneously building up their forces for an invasion of Great Britain.

"At this rate," he muttered to himself, "the United States will be entering this war before another year is out. Whether we like it or not!"

"I couldn't agree more," replied a decidedly female voice.

Nelson looked up... and shameless gaped in awe at the young and exotically beautiful woman before him.

She had a smiling face with a lovely swarthy complexion; shoulder-length black hair; almond-brown eyes; a black pillbox hat; and a white long-sleeved dress that matched the trench coat currently draped over her right arm. While in her white-gloved hands she carried a medium-sized box wrapped in brown paper that had been secured in place with crisscrossing gold twine.

"May I help you, Miss...?"

"Inza Cramer," she declared. "Late of Alexandria, Egypt, via London. And I bring you greetings from Lord Belmont of Ravenloft."

Nelson immediately grew more serious.

"How is His Lordship, these days?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. Which is why he asked me to bring these items to you. For safe-keeping!"

Whereupon, she immediately placed the box in front of him. Following which, Nelson uttered a phrase that sounded like a cross between Greek and Latin. But which was actually older than either language! When that had been accomplished, the twine snapped in two and the brown paper unfolded like a morning glory at first light! And what he beheld inside made him gasp.

"Les Morts Aux Morts-Vivants!* And the Seventh Book of Ys?! How. . .? Where. . .?"

Inza's smile broadened into a mischievous grin. "I'll tell you on one condition. That you buy me a cup of coffee."

 **GRENOBLE, FRANCE**

 **(OCT. 31, 1959)**

Dr. Fate waved his left hand over the floating crystal ball while the carefully folded bullwhip in his right-hand dripped blood.

"Behold!" he commanded. "Your grandfather's handiwork."

The image that materialized within the hovering globe showed a small Hungarian village in flames. With a pile of corpses on the outskirts of it! Half the corpses belonged to Russian soldiers. Some on foot; others riding in red-starred tanks; yet, with all of the bodies sharing the same look of horrified shock on their faces. Exceptionally pale faces… with twin puncture marks on or about each dead man's carotid artery.

The rest of the corpses belonged to what could only be described as anthropomorphic bats… with blood-soaked fangs.

Professor Joel Goldsmith III stared at his visitor with what could only be described as ' _deferential defiance'_. For no matter how powerful Dr. Fate might be, the current leader of the Order of the Red Shield refused to be totally cowed in his own home!

"I'm the first to admit that my grandfather let his scientific curiosity get the better of him. Yet, even you must realize that all hindsight is 20/20."

The lights in the living room of this magnificent Alpine chateau seemed to flicker as the glow emanating from the eye holes in the wizard's golden helmet grew correspondingly brighter.

"Then, he should have strove harder to improve his foresight! For there is a reason Nabu of Ur buried these two lamia queens so far apart. And it was not punitive caprice!"

The professor nodded, looking down at his living room's carpet in apologetic humility.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"Now, I shall have to banish the whole province of Barovia- -including Castle Vanya- -to a pocket dimension from which there is no return."

Professor Goldsmith's head snapped upward, to lock eyes with Dr. Fate, once more.

"Do even you have enough power to cast such a spell?"

This time, the wizard's reply seemed to have a touch of amusement in it.

"I think I have something that can help me in that regard."

 **THE TOWER OF FATE**

 **SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS**

 **(DECEMBER 1, 1963)**

"Is this what Grundy and the Gentleman Ghost were after?" asked Dr. Mid-Nite.

Dr. Fate nodded.

Twenty-four hours earlier, a trio of European art thieves had been hired by a costumed occultist, calling himself ' _The Zodiac Master_ ', to break into the Gotham City Museum of Natural History and steal an ancient Bahdnisian oil lamp that had just gone on display there. A lamp that was supposed to have once been owned by a wizard named Larko! When Dr. Mid-Nite tried to prevent the theft, however, a tug-of-war over the lamp accidentally resulted in the former rubbing it. Consequently?

He wound up being turned into a giant genie -turban, smoky lower torso, and all! One completely obedient to the person holding the lamp. So, not knowing what else to do, Dr. Mid-Nite's feathered friend, Hooty the Owl, sought help from the one human who could speak to all birds of prey: JSA Chairman Emeritus Hawkman. The latter, in turn, then recruited the help of Hourman, Green Lantern, Dr. Fate and the Flash. Together, yet not without some difficulty, they managed to subdue both the Zodiac Master and the art thieves, before restoring Dr. Mid-Nite to normal.

In the process, however, they learned it had all been an elaborate ruse! One intended to leave the Tower of Fate vulnerable to break-in, by the aforementioned duo, likewise hired by the Zodiac Master, so they could steal a certain tome of mystical knowledge. A theft that might very well have succeeded, had not Inza Nelson used some of her husband's training to summon help from the one other being capable of subduing Solomon Grundy and the Gentleman Ghost, single-handedly.

The Spectre.

Where the self-proclaimed Earthbound Angel of Vengeance had taken them, he had refused to tell her. So, Inza had to settle for she and her husband exchanging explanations as to what they had each just gone through.

"So, what's the story with this overgrown almanac?" asked Hourman.

"It's called the Seventh Book of Ys," replied Dr. Fate. "Also known as ' _The Book of Klarion_ '. After a sixth-century spoiled brat whose inherent magical powers could have given Merlin himself a run for his money! Yet, wanting to be even more powerful still, he tried to use it to absorb the collective power of six other magic tomes. Every single one of which kept the island of Ys from sinking forever beneath the Atlantic off the coast of Brittany!"

"Fortunately," continued Hawkman, "he was thwarted by Sir Adol Christin, a knight-errant of the Round Table; and a female djinn he nicknamed ' _Rouge_ ' for her braided red hair. Between the two of them, they managed to banish both Klarion and his feline familiar to another dimension."

"And just how do you two happen to know all that?" demanded Green Lantern.

Hawkman grinned shamelessly. "The legend of that battle was written down in the memoirs of Victorian archaeologist Sir Edward Falcon. Required reading for all students of ancient history!"

"I think your being able to store that here, for safe-keeping, is ancient history," added the Flash. "So where will you put it, now?"

 **GOTHAM COUNTY, NJ**

 **(MARCH 29, 1969)**

"Oh, look, Thomas! Here's a birthday present from your old medical school mentor."

Martha's husband looked at the tag stapled to the blue ribbon surrounding the white paper of the gift that had just been delivered by UPS.

"To: Thomas Wayne, M.D.

From: Chas. McNider, M.D."

 **tbc**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

 **GOTHAM CITY, N.J.**

 **(MARCH 27, 1969)**

Dr. Charles McNider lifted the small microphone in his left hand while he used his right hand to flip the activation switch of the portable reel-to-reel tape recorder in front of him. When he was sure the audiotape reels were running, he began speaking.

"Dear Thomas:

By now, you must have noticed a little bit of what makes the book I sent you so unusual. To say the least! Personally, I would've preferred to donate it to the Rare Books section of the GSU campus library. But, the Larko Lamp incident, six years ago, is still too fresh in the minds of the Board of Regents. So, they are understandably reluctant to accept anything else with an occult reputation anywhere on campus! Thus, at the request of my old colleague, Kent Nelson, I hid the tome in plain sight among my own private collection of books in Braille."

"That's how I learned that this book is basically a prison... for a race of extra-dimensional creatures who call themselves 'The Unown'!"

"In their native dimension, they communicate with each other through what I can only describe as _'electromagnetic empathy_.' That is; not only can each one feel what their fellow Unown are feeling. But, they can also convey their own individual feelings the same way: electromagnetically. It's like neuro-synaptic activity. Only more carefully varied, like the frequencies of a two-way radio. And, what's more; in large enough groups, that empathy borders on full-fledged telepathy!"

"Yet, when it comes to communicating with us, it's more like a car radio. They can perceive our thoughts. But, not vice-versa. They've managed to circumvent that obstacle, however, by evolving the ability to psychokinetically transform into the alphanumeric characters of any written language imaginable. That's how I've managed to learn so much about them. They became living Braille script!"

"That, in turn, is how I learned about their ultimate ability. When the whole race empathically unites, they can change the very world around them. I'm not just referring to the molecular transmutation of matter. But, the alteration of reality itself! That's why I've held on to the book as long as I have, Thomas. But, with Myra and I moving to Florida, as soon as my retirement becomes official, I have to transfer custody of the book to someone! And you're the only one I can trust with it."

"If the postal system does it job better than usual, you should be receiving this tape the day after your fortieth birthday. That's when I'll pay you a visit and answer any remaining questions you might have. Until then, this is good old Doc McNider, signing off."

Four days later, at breakfast, Myra McNider (nee Mason) tearfully read her husband the article on the front page of their morning newspaper. The one detailing the tragic ending to the Wayne family's night out at the movies.

 **NERIMA-KU, TOKYO, JAPAN**

 **(DECEMBER 18, 1975)**

"Konichiwa, Master Bruce!" exclaimed Alfred Pennyworth, as he stepped out of the rented limousine.

"I'm fine, Alfred," replied the thirteen-year-old multi-millionaire. "How are you?"

"Never better, sir."

"And Gotham City? What are the crime stats like?"

Alfred sighed at the brevity of the joyous reunion. For the past three years, his youthful employer had ended every long-distance phone call with the same enquiry. And, as much as he incessantly wished he could do otherwise, he had always responded with the harsh truth.

"Still going up, sir. Although, it might provide you some consolation to know that, this year, the increase was only by five percent!"

"No, Alfred, it doesn't. Any percentage of increase greater than zero is too much, as far as I'm permanently concerned!"

Alfred sighed. "Then, I take it your long-range plans are still unchanged?"

The youngster grimly nodded, before getting into the back seat of the limo, while Alfred got behind the steering wheel.

"I hope you have, at least, been keeping your promise not to overwork yourself, Master Bruce. To allow yourself some kind of mundane leisure activity between martial arts classes?"

To Alfred's relief, his ward actually smiled!

"As a matter of fact, yes. They have an interesting form of television program, here, called ' _anime_.' It's basically an animated cartoon version of the comic strips called ' _manga_!' And there are two specific anime series that I find fascinating. ' _Gekko Kamen_ ' and _'Ogon Batto_.' The former title loosely translates as ' _Moonlight Mask_.' And it's basically a Japanese update of the Lone Ranger! Only instead of a white horse, the gun-slinging hero rides a motorcycle on his nocturnal crusades against crime."

"I see. And the latter title?"

"Loosely translates to _'Golden Bat_.' Although, technically, it should be called ' _Ogon Komori_ ' as ' _batto_ ' is a loan word from English referring to baseball bats rather than the flying mammal! In any event, the title character is the reanimated mummy of an Atlantean wizard -although, personally, I suspect it's more like antediluvean super-science- who aids the pre-adolescent daughter of an archaeologist battle the schemes for world domination constantly being hatched by a mad scientist named Dr. Zero."

"Well, that all sounds very fascinating, Master Bruce. Fortunately, however, mad science is one form of criminal activity even Gotham City is unlikely to ever see. So, fasten your seat belt, and prepare to enjoy a merry- -and long overdue- -Christmas vacation, at home."

 **NERIMA-KU, TOKYO, JAPAN**

 **(FIFTEEN YEARS LATER)**

Nabiki Tendo looked at her father and sisters before glaring at the short, hook-nosed old man called Happosai.

"I can't believe you even listened to him! First of all, Ranma's mother's real given name is Nodoka. Not Sakura! Secondly, she's not even Eurasian. She's full Japanese! So, how could even an elderly pervert like him fail to recognize this woman as a Caucasian-American?"

The seventeen-year-old journalism student held up a publicity photograph of a white woman with light brown hair done up in a bun and blue eyes wearing a blue tuxedo with tails; a black top hat with red band; a red bow tie; and a white blouse that contrasted quite stunningly with her black bikini briefs and matching high heels.

"If she isn't Mrs. Saotome," demanded sixteen-year-old Akane Tendo. "...then who is she, really?"

"Ms. Haley Norton," replied her middle sister. "A scion of the two biggest circus-owning families in the United States. Her father, Joseph Norton, was the last of the Norton Brothers. And when he married the daughter and only child of C. C. Haley, his father-in-law agreed to a merger of their two shows as a wedding present! A show she has owned, and been ringmaster of, since she was twenty-one."

"But, if that's the case," replied Kasumi Tendo, their eldest sister. "...then why did Genma and Ranma agree to join her circus?"

That, Nabiki admitted, she had no answer for. She added, however, that she was going to work really hard on tracking the Haley & Norton Bros. Circus.

"They're going to be touring the Eastern Hemisphere for the next six months before heading back to America. When they do. . ."

"...I'll be sure to be there, right on the spot, to ask them that very question!" declared Akane, heatedly interrupting her.

"As will I," muttered Kuno Kodachi, eavesdropping on the conversation from her hiding place atop the Tendo family's roof.

Six months later, two jet liners took off from Japan, bound for Gotham City in the United States. The one transporting Kasumi and Akane Tendo departing on May 1, 1990. The other- -transporting Kuno Kodachi- -departing a day ahead of them!

 **tbc**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

 **LONDON, ENGLAND**

 **(APR. 15, 1990)**

His name was Drake Anderson. A young Caucasian-American, in his mid-twenties, with brown eyes, pony-tailed blond hair, and a slightly over-sized Navy-blue business suit that had obviously seen better days. Officially, he was a veteran of the U.S. Army Special Forces-turned-military historian for the British Museum. But, in reality, he was an undercover agent for the Special Operations Division… of the British Library.

Originally part of the museum, the library became bureaucratically autonomous, in 1973, as the first step in a long-range plan aimed at "consolidating various highly similar-yet-numerically superfluous information-gathering and record-keeping services." Or, at least, that was the publicly stated reason. The truth, however, was far more astounding.

The library was to serve as the front for a top-secret unit of the Ministry of Defense. One tasked with keeping potentially dangerous knowledge out of the hands of those foreign powers and subversive organizations with goals all-too similar to those once espoused by Nazi Germany!

Drake knocked on the door of the division chief, Joseph Carpenter, who immediately- -and rather impatiently- -told him to enter.

"Sorry for being late, Joe. But, I know how you insist on my dressing formally for these mission briefings. And it took me longer than I thought to get the smell of mothballs out of these duds."

"Gentlemen?" replied Carpenter. "Meet Special Agent Anderson, our resident wit. Half the time, anyway! Agent Anderson? Meet Kiyo Takamine… and Zatch Bell of the Mamodo."

Carpenter gestured to Anderson's left. Whereupon the latter turned to shake hands. Only to stop short and instinctively exclaim, "Whoa! When did Raggedy Ann and E.T. have a kid?!"

Carpenter threw a look-of-daggers at Anderson. But, Takamine half-smiled.

"When I first met Zatch Bell, my initial reaction was very similar, though not in those exact words. His people, the Mamodo, are an extra-dimensional race. And every thousand years, some of them come here, to Earth, to fight for succession to their home world's throne. A fight that involves the use of magic spell books that, for some reason, they can't read themselves. Earthlings have to read it for them!"

Anderson confessed to finding that very interesting. But, he also admitted to being puzzled as to how the S.O.D. could help.

"It appears that Mr. Bell has sensed the surfacing of an unclaimed spell book," replied Carpenter. "And so has your regular partner, Mr. Nakajima. It is in that moral cesspool called Gotham City, of all places!"

"Don't tell me. Let me guess," said Anderson. "You want me and Donny to go get it. Right?"

"Not quite. Mr. Nakajima won't be accompanying you, on this mission, as he'll be too busy tutoring our newest papyrokinetic recruit, Ms. Yomiko Readmon. Instead, you'll be serving as chaperone to Messrs. Bell and Takamine!"

"You can't be serious," said Anderson.

Carpenter smirked. "You've worked for me long enough to know that I'm _always_ serious, Mr. Anderson. Which is why I hate your incessantly referring to me, behind my back, as ' _Joker_ '!"

 **GOTHAM CITY, N.J.**

 **(ONE WEEK LATER)**

"It's me," said Drake over his scrambled cellphone. "With good news and bad news. The good news is… we did what you might call a little ' _psionic triangulation_ '. With Zatch Bell as the plumbob! And we finally got a fix on that spell book. But, the bad news is… it appears to be the property of a local billionaire named Bruce Wayne. And, based on initial recon, the place is built like a fortress! Wired accordingly, too. The only bright side is that he's a bit of a playboy. His folks were killed in a street mugging-gone-wrong when he was seven. And it's evidently turned him into a live-for-the moment kind of guy! As in, he's almost never home."

"Splendid!" replied Carpenter. "Then, just find out when he's most frequently not at home… and break in, then."

 **MADISON ROUND GARDEN**

 **(THE VERY NEXT DAY)**

"Ranma!" Haley Norton called out. "Would you be a dear and paper the ten surrounding blocks?"

Her " _son_ ", whose first six months with the circus had taught him that " _papering_ " meant putting up posters advertising their upcoming performance dates, smiled and nodded.

"But, could someone help me?" he added. "After all, this is my first time in America! I don't know this city any better than I know the backs of your hands."

"I can show you around," volunteered ten-year-old Dick Grayson. "My family's been coming here, with the circus, since I was half your age!"

Ranma laughed and nodded, appreciatively. The two boys were, therefore. conveniently absent when two men barged into Haley's personal trailer-cum-office. One of them seven feet tall, in his mid-thirties, and built like a professional wrestler with the head of a male white rhinoceros, tattooed in profile on his right hand. The other one ten years younger, a foot shorter, and- -perhaps- -two hundred pounds lighter. But, with an admittedly much better-looking ensemble!

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Haley, jumping from her business desk. "Just who do you think you are to-?"

"Tony Zucco, Ms. Norton," replied the younger man. "And this is my ' _associate_ ', Rhino. We are here representing the Benevolent Amalgamated Brotherhood of Playhouse and Movie Theater Employees, Local 1012. Of which I am the current president. And it has come to our attention that, in addition to your usual roustabouts, a good number of Madison Round Garden's regular employees will be helping to set up for your show's opening night. Is that correct?"

She nodded. "That's been the custom ever since my father and grandfather first merged. What of it?"

"Well, that's going to mean a lot of overtime for those employees," replied Zucco. "And, with inflation the way it's been, these last ten years, I'm afraid our union has been forced to increase the time-and-a-half pay rate to… thirty percent."

"Thirty percent?!" she echoed (in undisguised shock). "Why, that- - -that's extortion!"

Zucco grinned. "I prefer to think of it as ' _health insurance_ '. After all, some of your performers do some pretty dangerous things on a daily basis! Which means almost anything could happen. Unpredictably!"

Haley crisscrossed her arms in blatant hatred. "Like, say, a thinly-disguised shake-down by a low-rent thug with delusions of grandeur?"

Zucco scowled as his posture stiffened. His right index finger pointing at her like the business end of a revolver.

"You'd be smart to keep a more civil tongue in your head, lady. Before someone hits you upside it with something a lot more effective than a lawsuit for slander. You catch my drift?"

"Might I suggest a compromise?" a new voice interjected.

Rhino's right hand immediately went beneath the left lapel of his sport jacket, before Zucco halted him with an upraised left hand.

"Who are you?"

The well-dressed man who swung around in the swivel chair from where it had previously been facing in Haley's direction slowly stood up and smiled.

"Bruce Wayne. Chairman of the annual Wayne Foundation/GCPD Christmas Toy Drive for Underprivileged Children. And, for the last thirty years, the Haly & Norton Circus has kicked off our semi-annual fundraising for that cause by donating ten percent of their Gotham Opening Night profits! Of course, paying the thirty percent increase you're asking for would put a serious crimp in that goal. So, I hereby volunteer to pay the difference by making out a personal check, for the specific amount, in your organization's name. If nothing else, it would certainly impress my co-chairman, Commissioner Gordon, when I tell him of your ' _civic-mindedness_ '."

Rhino looked at his boss, and vice-versa, before the latter scowled and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Wayne. That's… mighty generous of you."

Five minutes later, however, he was of a vastly different opinion as he speed-dialed a certain number on his cellphone from the privacy of his limo's sound-proofed back seat.

"That no-good piece of rich white trash made feel me like a freaking panhandler! Now, that Norton broad probably thinks she's got a permanent free pass from us."

"Relax, Tony," replied the voice on the other end. "If Mr. Wayne belittled you, I'm sure I can find someone willing to return the favor on your behalf. Just don't do anything rash by trying to rectify this, personally."

Zucco abruptly ended the call, right then and there. Effectively making no promises.

 **THE BAT CAVE (LATER THAT SAME NIGHT).**

"Benevolent Amalgamated What?!"

Batman half-smiled. "Relax, Alfred. They're not a legitimate union. Just an eighty-year-old front for a protection racket that specializes in entertainment venues."

"Hmph! I should hope so. The popular misconception that _all_ labor unions are ' _mobbed up_ ', is bad enough as it is!"

His righteous indignation was understandable. For, while he might no longer be an active member, Alfred Pennyworth was still a proud financial supporter of the Shakespearian Actors' Guild. Indeed, half of the Dark Knight's mastery of disguise consisted of cosmetic skills and acting techniques that the faithful butler had acquired in his own thespian youth!

"Don't worry. If I can help the police nab Zucco for extortion, they might be able to persuade him to turn states' evidence against his uncle. Thereby heading off any trouble with Rupert Thorne!"

"You still think someone is trying to foment a gang war between them, sir?"

Batman nodded. "Last week, one of Thorne's book-making operations is attacked and its entire crew massacred… by exsanguination. Two days later, the same thing happens to a couple of truck drivers for one of Stromwell's dummy companies while they're hauling furniture loaded with contraband drugs! Now, Stromwell and Thorne might have driven the other three original crime families of Gotham into virtual extinction. But, they're much too pragmatic to try and do that to each other. Let alone, in such a blatantly brutal fashion! No, Alfred, someone else is pulling the strings, here. And I intend to find out who... even if it kills me."

 **MAHORA GAKUEN,**

 **TOKYO, JAPAN**

 **(APR. 25, 1990)**

Evangeline " _Yukihime_ " McDowell made the introductions.

"Professor Joel Goldschmidt V? Mlle. Sherry Belmont… and her friend Brago."

She grinned as she gestured to a slightly shorter male figure. One who resembled, more than anything else, a ventriloquist's dummy dressed like an albino Goth!

"How may we help you, professeur?" asked the young woman to Brago's right.

"The Red Shield needs your help, mademoiselle. We have reason to believe that the American city called Gotham has been invaded by Chiropterans. Normally, we would send our own specialist, Saya Otonashi, to intervene. But, she's only halfway through her latest thirty-year hibernation cycle! So, our only other alternative is the heir to the Belmont family legacy. Including the enchanted bullwhip known as _'Mort Aux Morts-Vivants_ '. Alias ' _The Vampire Killer_ '!"

 **tbc**

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Evangeline McDowell:** _a centuries-old wizardess who was vampirized as an adolescent. Part of the scholastic harem of Prof. Negi Springfield at Mahora Academy in the anime, NEGIMA: MAGISTER NEGI MAGI._

 **Sherry Belmont and Brago:** _one of the many Earthling-and-Mamodo partnerships competing against each other in the anime ZATCH BELL._

 **The Red Shield:** _a vampire-hunting organization led by the aristocratic Goldschmidt family in the anime BLOOD+._

 **Mort Aux Morts-Vivant:** _French for "Death to the Undead."_

 **Vampire Killer:** _self-explanatory name for the trademark weapon of the vampire-hunting Belmont family in the video game "Castlevania."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

 **APRIL 29, 1990**

The flight to Gotham City was made from east-to-west via Heathrow Airport. With Joel Goldschmidt V bidding au revoir and bon chance to Sherry Belmont and Brago after first introducing them to his second-in-command and chief field operative, David Chrissley.*

"My administrative responsibilities preclude me from any further direct involvement in this matter. So, David will assist you from this point forward. You can have total faith in his abilities, just as I have total faith in yours!"

With that, he had disembarked from the Red Shield's private jet. A custom-restored Concorde SST with the Goldschmidt family's coat-of-arms ("Hephaestus with hammer, anvil, and tongs, all Or, on a shield gules") painted just forward of the port and starboard wings.

"Tell me, M'sieur Chrissley. . ." began Sherry.

"David, please!" he replied.

"Tres bien. Tell me, David, what makes Chiropterans different from the vampires my family have so often hunted?"

The thirty-something Caucasian-American (brown eyes, short blond hair, and a mustard-yellow suit with matching tie and white shirt) carefully considered his words before replying.

"I guess the best way to put it is that the vampires your family hunts were initially humans of comparatively more recent vintage. Whereas, Chiropterans seem to represent a much older form of the species. A race of bat-like humanoids as opposed to anemic-looking humans with unusually long canine teeth! There's also a difference in social behavior. Vampirized humans are not only rendered sterile by the hemophagic virus. But, also, anti-social. At least, to the extent that none of them gather together in any greater strength than small loose-knit packs (a la wolves). Whereas, Chiropterans seem to have a hierarchy similar to beehives. With only the alpha females, or queens, being fertile. Although, that fertility is more akin to that of certain lizards, in that the queens can only reproduce... parthenogenically."

Sherry gasped. "Mon Dieu! And it was one such queen that Prof. Goldschmidt's great-great grandpere unearthed in Greenland?"

David nodded, adding. "What's worse? We have evidence that she might have been the younger of a pair of identical twin sisters! The first-born twin most likely being the literally bloodthirsty 'demoness' of ancient Egyptian mythology known as... Thoth- Khapera."

 **GOTHAM RITZ-CARLTON,**

 **GOTHAM CITY, N. J.**

 **APRIL 30, 1990**

 **(11:59 P.M./EDT)**

Kiyo Takamine looked over Drake Anderson's right shoulder as Drake Anderson completed the computerized fabrication of the latter's pseudonymous credentials.

"Who's Jack Ryder?" he asked.

"A local reporter," replied the special agent. "Currently working as a free-lance correspondent, or ' _stringer_ ', for a satellite TV news service in your country. Some outfit called J-Star?"

Kiyo nodded, to show he had heard of them. So, Anderson continued explaining.

"I left a message, earlier this morning, with Wayne's butler, requesting an interview with his boss on behalf of J-Star's business editor. Wayne got back to me a couple hours later, with a _'yes_ '. So, eleven hours from now, the three of us will show up at Wayne Manor. With me, as Ryder; with you, as my cameraman; and with Zatch as our... electrical technician."

Zatch Bell chuckled, for all Mamodo had super-powers that were unique to each of them. And, in his case, Zatch was bio-electrical!

Two minutes later, at Gotham City International Airport, a JAL flight that had flown west-to-east via Alaska and Canada finally touched down. Among the passengers who disembarked was a lovely young woman in her late teens. With her long black hair draped down over her left shoulder in a pony-tail that was held in place by a scrunchie resembling nothing less. . .than a black rose.

She noticed the dark-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian, holding a white cardboard sign with her name painted in flawless kanji, almost immediately.

"Ms. Kodachi?" he ventured to ask with a courteous smile.

"Hai!" she replied with a bow: "You are Ryder-san?"

"Yes, ma'am. Jack Ryder! My boss, at J-Star, asked me to serve as your guide and interpreter while you're in town."

"Domo arigato, Ryder-san. Where do we go from here?"

"Well, as soon as you claim your luggage, we can hail a cab and have it take us to the local Ritz-Carlton. Where I've already reserved you a room."

Kuno Kodachi smilingly bowed, and thanked him, again.

Meanwhile, a red-eye from Brazil had just landed. Fifteen minutes later, one of its passengers (a Caucasian-American with reddish-orange hair, matching mustache, and wearing a green business suit with matching tie and white shirt) claimed his luggage before heading to the nearest pay phone. There, he dialed the special telephone number he had been sent in a telegram, twenty-fours earlier. A phone number he had carefully memorized before burning the telegram!

"Tony? It's me. I just got in."

"Good! I'm waiting in the short-term parking lot across from the arrival terminal. Section M... for ' _Matches_ '."

Michael B. Malone chuckled in flattered amusement. "Good one!"

 **GOTHAM RITZ-CARLTON,**

 **AMBASSADORIAL SUITE**

 **MAY 1, 1990 (12:05 A.M./EDT)**

A bone-white hand reached down to answer the cellphone with the muted ring-tone of an old-fashioned rotary dial telephone.

"Hai?"

"The genin monitoring the tap on Zucco-san's phone have reported in, milord. It is as you feared."

The caller heard the heaving of a frustrated sigh, before his lord and master added. "Very well. Bring the car around, so that we may pay him a much-needed visit."

"Hai, Yama-sama!"

 **GCPD HEADQUARTERS**

 **(TEN MINUTES LATER)**

Commissioner James Gordon looked skyward at the luminous circle with the red capital " _x_ " superimposed over the more usual silhouette of a bat.

"For some reason, I feel like I'm committing sacrilege," he muttered.

"Think of it more as a necessary evil, Commissioner. The best way to insure he gets here as soon as possible. "

The man who had just made that reply was dressed in a trench coat much like Gordon. But, where the latter sported a silvery-white mustache, the former had a black beard that was only starting to go gray due to being ten years younger. He also wore a brown fedora atop his head.

"Then consider it no longer necessary!" declared a harsh whisper from behind both of them.

Sure enough, it was The Batman.

"What's the meaning of this, Commissioner?"

"It seems like your theory of a gang war provocateur might have some basis, after all," replied Gordon. "This is Inspector De Tector of Interpol. And he thinks he knows who's trying to oust both Stromwell and Thorne."

"I more than think it," replied the Interpol official. "I'm dead certain of it! Tell me, Batman. Have you ever heard of a yakuza faction called 'Zugaikotsu-no Ichizoku?' "

"The Clan of the Skull?" the Dark Knight instinctively translated. "Vaguely. Their oyabun is said to spend half his waking moments dressed like a medieval painting of the Grim Reaper. Hence, his nickname: Yama-sama. "

Inspector De Tector nodded, adding in loose translation: "Lord Deathman."

 **tbc**

 **GLOSSARY**

 **Au revoir:** _French for "see you later"._

 **Bon chance:** _French for "good luck"._

 **David Chrissley:** _my own in-joke reference to Christopher Nissley, who does the voice of David for the anglo-dubbed version of BLOOD+._

 _Or: heraldic synonym for "gold" (usually capitalized so it won't be confused with the identically-spelled conjunction)._

 **Gules:** _heraldic synonym for "red."_

 **Inspector De Tector:** _my own in-joke reference to the chief police contact of the eponymous protagonist of the anime_ _SPEED RACER._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

Commissioner Gordon frowned. "Why would this Lord Deathman suddenly want to expand his operations to Gotham?"

"The Japanese corporation Tekken recently acquired a Swiss-based drug company called Pharmaceutique Cinq-Fleches."

Batman nodded in recognition. "I've heard of them. It's rumored that they make designer drugs for L'Union Corse."

"Hence, the acquisition by the people who do most of Deathman's money laundering," replied the inspector. "He wants to move his yakuza clan into the 21st century. But, the distribution of new drugs on the streets of Tokyo would almost certainly lead to a prohibitively expensive war with his rivals! So, by instigating a gang war in Gotham City, instead..."

"...he eliminates local competition while simultaneously opening a test market for his new drugs," finished Gordon.

Inspector De Tector nodded once more. Batman, however, was quick to point out one salient point.

"He couldn't do all of that, openly. Not at first, anyway! He'd need a local man to front for him."

"True!" agreed the inspector. "Hence, his recruitment of one Anthony Zucco."

"Arnold Stromwell's nephew," muttered the Dark Knight.

"Makes sense," said Gordon. "He's over-ambitious... and mentally myopic!"

Meanwhile, the limousine owned by the subject of this discussion was en route to the Gotham Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

"I got this kidnapping caper I want to pull tonight. But, to do it, I need a diversion that'll draw as many cops away from the scene as possible."

"And that's where I come in," guessed " _Matches_ " Malone: professional arsonist.

"Yep! I want you to cause some _'natural gas_ ' explosions in the sewers around this hotel for a two-block radius. And I want it done within the next two hours!"

Malone whistled. "So soon?! Rush jobs can be risky with the kind of pyrotechnics you just described."

"But, nothin' you haven't done before, right?"

"Not without gettin' a generous down-payment in advance."

"Not to worry. I'll give you twice your usual fee! The first half of which is already in your favorite offshore account. As for the stuff you might need? You can pick it up at this address."

Tony Zucco handed the arsonist a business card.

"Any other questions?"

Malone shook his head.

"Then, I'll drop you off here so you can check in."

It took less than a minute for the doorman to open the left rear passenger door and help Malone exit the back seat. By the time the limo pulled away, Malone was halfway to the check-in desk. The only other people registering ahead of him being a young French girl and her weird boyfriend who looked like an albino midget wrestler.

Twenty minutes later, however, he came down from his hotel room and asked the doorman to hail him a cab.

"Where to, mister?" asked the cabbie.

"1050 Radomski Street," replied Malone.

 **ROOM 639, GOTHAM RITZ-CARLTON**

 **MAY 1, 1990 (12:30 A.M./EDT)**

Kuno Kodachi could no longer wait. Having learned from her American chaperone, Jack Ryder, where Madison Round Garden was located, she decided to go there before sunrise and confront this gaijin woman who had dared steal her " _beloved_ " Ranma-chan from her, by posing as his long-absent mother. Hence, her going to bed right after an early dinner. So, she could both revitalize herself, after that long flight from Japan, as well as sneak out of the hotel, later on, without Ryder-san noticing. Having accomplished the first goal, she now sneaked up to the roof of the hotel, wearing her greenish-black leotard (with matching moccasins) and carrying a telescoping pole with a white ribbon attached to it. A ribbon that was weighted at the free end like a kusari-gama chain.

But, which was also coated with a powerful adhesive similar to that of flypaper!

She was not alone, however, in wanting to sneak out of the hotel.

"Where do you wanna start the search for those Chiropterans?" asked Brago, flexing his muscles instinctively.

"We shall let them find us," replied Sherry Belmont. "In the meantime, we can advance our own cause by searching for those other spell books you sensed."

"Counting Kiyo and Zatch Bell's, there are three of them," Brago reminded her. "Of the other two? One's very close by; about a two-block radius. The third is much more distant. About twenty-two-and-a-half kilometers (or fourteen American miles) from here. And, yet, strangely enough, the mystical energy signature of that tome is more powerful than the other two combined!"

"We shall take the one that is more geographically convenient," Sherry decided.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the first-floor portion of the Madison Round Garden parking garage where the Haly & Norton Circus had parked some of their trailers. At that same moment, Michael " _Matches_ " Malone was climbing down a metal ladder from a certain access hatch in a certain subway tunnel. Clad in khaki cover-alls, a pair of army-surplus hiking boots, and a coal miner's headlamp.

For 1050 Radomski Street had proven to be the Dini Brothers Auto Salvage Yard!

Bruce, Timm, and Paul Dini were identical triplets whose specialty was the " _restyling_ " of stolen cars for Arnold Stromwell. And, over the years, they had become accustomed to receiving instructions from Stromwell via his nephew, Tony. Instructions they always followed, to the letter, without question. So, when Tony told them he needed certain kinds of metal pipes brought to their junkyard in a plumbing supply van, on behalf of an old friend of " _Uncle Arnie_ ," that was exactly what they did. Just as unquestioningly as they also left behind a map of the Gotham City sewer system on the front seat!

Consequently, Malone was now planting incendiary pipe bombs, in the first of the sewer tunnels, beneath the street directly parallel to Romano Boulevard. The street on which the main entrance to the hotel was located! The lights built on to the tunnel walls were not too bright in themselves. So, Malone augmented their illumination with the help of the headlamp. That way, he could properly see the dials on each of the detonation timers he was setting as precisely as possible.

Eventually, however, he completed laying the first series of charges. Thereby leaving him free to begin booby-trapping the tunnel beneath the street perpendicular to the hotel's north-facing wall. No sooner had he gotten started, though, than he heard a strange sound coming from farther down the tunnel to his right. An almost-asthmatic wheezing!

Thinking it might be one of those subterranean homeless people he had read so much about, in Brazil, he dared to call out.

"Hey! Who is it? Who goes there?"

The only response was more wheezy breathing. The breather ( _or breathers_ ) sounding even closer, now. So, Malone repeated his demand. Reluctantly reaching, as he did so, for the .45 caliber Colt M-1911 currently holstered on his left hip for quick, right-handed drawing beneath the partially unzipped cover-alls. It was not that he was squeamish about using guns. Far from it. After all, it was the U.S. Army that had taught him his present trade in the first place!

It was simply that he loved the loud noise his bombs made so much like the Fourth of July fireworks of his youth! The sound of that asthmatic wheezing, however, was driving him to distraction. So, Malone repeated his demand for identification a third time. Only this time, he got a response. Not a verbal one, unfortunately. But, rather, a facial one!

Malone saw the face of what was doing all the wheezing... and he screamed.

 **tbc**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

 **GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY**

 **MAY 1, 1990 (12:40 A.M./EDT)**

Sherry Belmont and Brago stealthily exited the hotel half a block up from the intersection of Romano Boulevard and Kirkland Avenue. Whereupon, they started walking slowly up the latter street to their left. They had not gotten very far, however, before a thunderous explosion rattled all the windows and set off every car alarm around them!

 **FIVE MINUTES EARLIER**

While hiding out in Brazil, Michael " _Matches_ " Malone had heard all kinds of stories, from other expatriate East Coast criminals, about the Caped Crusader of Gotham City. Mostly about his fighting prowess and his seemingly supernatural ability to appear and disappear at will. And all the taletellers seemed to have the same summarizing opinion.

"The guy ain't human. He can't be!"

Thus, when he first saw the bestial visage of the creature that came shambling out of the shadows toward him, he instinctively screamed. Initially thinking it was the dreaded Batman coming to get him! But, when that first creature was followed by several others, in surprisingly quick succession, Malone's fear of going back to prison turned to full-fledged horror and revulsion. Whereupon, he immediately drew his Colt M-1911 and started firing.

To no affect, whatsoever.

Consequently, when his handgun ran out of bullets, he immediately picked up a walkie-talkie in one hand... and a dead man's switch in the other.

"Get back, you ugly s.o.b.'s. Get back, I said! If my thumb eases up on this switch, we all go up together. I'm warning you! I'm..."

Unfortunately, for him, the Chiropterans did not understand one word of what he was saying. Indeed, the only sound he made that they did recognize was the sound of panic that issued from his throat just before they began tearing it open to drink from it! Which was arguably even more unfortunate for them, as Malone had not been bluffing. The very first second he passed out, from loss of blood, his right-hand thumb ceased pressing down on the aptly-named switch.

Thereby allowing the transmission of the detonation signal to all the pipe bombs planted beneath nearby Romano Boulevard.

"BA-DA-BOOM!"

Manhole covers went flying a hundred or so feet into the air. Gathering so much momentum on the way back down, they left veritable craters in the asphalt of the street and the concrete of both sidewalks! As for the Chiropterans in the sewer tunnel underneath? Those not killed by the initial fiery explosion somehow managed to regenerate just enough, from the ensuing shock wave, that they could stagger to their feet and head for the nearest ladders.

Emerging on to Kirkland Avenue in full view of the initially astounded Sherry and Brago. To her credit, though, the former was the first to shake off her slack-jawed stupor.

"Time to go to work, Brago."

Whereupon, Brago smiled as he watched her unfurl Vampire Killer and charge forward. Shouting, in French, as she did so. "Mort aux morts-vivants!"

 **GCPD HEADQUARTERS**

The second they heard the explosion, Commissioner Gordon and Inspector De Tector ran to the upper left corner of the roof.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the latter. "Where did that come from?"

"The intersection of Kirkland and Romano," replied Gordon. "The general vicinity of the local Ritz-Carlton Hotel!"

"But, I have reservations, there!" De Tector declared. "Batman, do you suppose...?"

The French Interpol agent swerved about in his attempt to ask his question. But, whatever the rest of that inquiry might have entailed was never to be known. As Batman's suddenly conspicuous absence left him completely dumbfounded! He then turned to Gordon... who could not resist smirking.

"Welcome to my world."

At that same moment, near Madison Round Garden, two ninja-like figures emerged from the darkness near the famous entertainment venue. The one clad in blue-on-black gazing at his green-on-black accomplice.

"Show time, buddy," remarked Joseph "Subzero" Chill.

Whereupon, Waylon "Reptile" Jones assumed his were-lizard form.

A minute-and-a-half later, the latter tore the door to Haley Norton's trailer off its hinges. And when the ring mistress of the eponymous circus saw the physical appearance of the intruder coming through the doorway, she instinctively screamed at the top of her lungs. Thereby awakening her ' _son_ ,' Ranma!

"Hey!" shouted the latter. "Who do you think...?"

He was not allowed to finish, as Reptile wasted no time in picking up the Japanese youth by the lapels of his pajama top and throwing him out of the trailer via the nearest window. Ranma, however, wasted no time in springing back on to his feet and running forward to counterattack. Only for Subzero to literally freeze him in his tracks!

"Sorry, kid. We're only being paid for one snatch, tonight."

Whereupon, Reptile emerged from the trailer, carrying their target wrapped up in bed sheets that made her resemble an Egyptian mummy. Albeit, one partially composed of gray duct tape!

"Let's-s-s-s-s-s-s go," hissed Reptile.

"Right behind you, buddy," replied the frigid ninja.

Dick Grayson, the only member of the circus still awake at that hour (even before the explosion), saw what happened and immediately dove for the spell book hidden beneath his bed.

"You going after them?" asked a purple-and-pink-clad mamodo who called himself ' _Batmite_.'

"Do bears organically fertilize their woods?" replied the ten-year-old.

Whereupon, he cracked open the spell book and read the first line that sounded like it provided the best means of rescuing Haley without killing her.

"Katachi sasori-no-otoko!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Whereupon, young Grayson shot up to six feet tall... while simultaneously transforming into a ninja clad in gold-on-black.

"Time for The Scorpion to hunt," quipped Batmite with a smile

Meanwhile, back at the Gotham Ritz-Carlton, the only hotel guests on their floor, not blindly panicking in their haste to squeeze through a narrow emergency stairwell door, were Kiyo, Zatch Bell, and their new friend Drake.

"These people are gonna crush and suffocate each other before they get down to street level!" exclaimed the latter. "Can't you guys do something with that tome of yours?"

Kiyo looked at Zatch who nodded without the slightest hesitation. So, Kiyo opened up the spell book and shouted, "Shushukurai!"

Whereupon, the fair-haired mamodo extended both arms in order to project twin bolts of electricity. Both of which sped down the hall and struck the jam-packed crowd in front of them. Instantly shrinking each person in the crowd down to one inch-tall! Kiyo then looked at Drake and ordered him to grab their suit blazers.

"We'll use them to scoop up all the shrinkies and bring them downstairs with us."

Meanwhile, back at Madison Round Garden, Kuno Kodachi watched with shocked fascination at the events unfolding around her. First, she had seen the intrusion of the two men dressed like her family's retainer, Sasuke Shinobi. Then, following the display of their super-powers and their hasty departure with the woman called Haley Norton, she had seen another ninja exit from the damaged circus trailer. This one, actually apologizing to her beloved Ranma for not releasing him from the ice that still held him immobilized.

Only his wording had been most peculiar. "Sorry, ma'am! I'll be back to free you as soon as possible."

"Ma'am?!" she muttered in understandable disbelief.

Therefore, as soon as the third ninja had departed, Kuno came out from her hiding place to scrutinize the situation. And, sure enough; there, encased in ice up to her neck, was her red-headed rival!

"What are you doing here?" Kuno demanded. "And what have you done with my beloved Ranma?"

"I'll t-t-t-tell you," replied the redhead through chattering teeth. "B-B-But, only if you g-g-g-get me out of here, f-f-first."

Whereupon, Kuno seemed to make a pair of Indian clubs appear out of thin air. One in each hand. She then spun them about so their narrow ends were pointed toward the ice block. Following which, she used each of her thumbs to press a small button hidden somewhere along the wide base of each club. Causing a long, sharp needle point to appear out of the tops of the narrow ends!

These, she immediately used to chip away at the ice as if the Indian clubs were overgrown ice picks. Not all around the ice, however! That would have been a waste of time and energy. Rather, Kuno used the same principle that other people would use in cracking an egg. Focusing the required amount of force on one particular spot, only. As a result, the redhead was soon lying on the floor of the parking garage, shivering but grateful.

"D-D-Domo arig..." Ranma began to say.

Only to be kicked unconscious by Kuno's right foot.

 **tbc**

 **Anglo-Japanese Glossary**

 **Katachi Sasori-no-otoko:** _"Form of a scorpion man!"_

 **Shushukurai:** _my own portmanteau of the Japanese words "shushuku"_ ( _= "shrinkage"_ ) _and "rakurai"_ ( _= "thunderbolt"_ ) _._


End file.
